Just Enough Hip to Be Woman is more than hip, it’s simply glorious.

Just Enough Hip to Be Woman

Ever wonder what the Beach Boys might have sounded like if they joined forces with the Ohio Express and some ‘70s glam rock group? Well, do I have the band for you! Oklahoma trio Broncho sounds pretty much exactly like that candy confection on their sophomore disc, Just Enough Hip to Be Woman. With enough lo-fi fuzziness to put cotton balls in your ears, this album is a chewy piece of bubblegum blast from start to finish. Some of the music resembles Real Estate a bit, and some of it resembles the Strokes, and some of it even makes one think of Wolf Parade – only if all three groups had more of a sense of humour and a dollop of sass. “If you show up in my room with no clothes on, it’s on!” exclaims Ryan Lindsey. “Is anyone still having sex?” he wonders elsewhere. So there’s much tongue stuck firmly in cheek with this disc, making this a wonderful listening experience. However, the disc is wall-to-wall with all killer and no filler. First single “Class Historian” crawls up your nose and lands somewhere in your gray matter with its “dit dit dit’s” sung repeatedly. Honestly, if that doesn’t stick inside your brain, you got no soul, man.

There’s no denying that Just Enough Hip to Be Woman is stacked with propulsive energy and just doesn’t let up throughout the course of its 33 minutes. The album is actually packaged like an album, with songs segueing in and out of each other sometimes. However, the disc’s biggest asset is that it just simply rawks out, just with a ‘60s pop sensibility. Because the sound is so sleek and streamlined, you may also draw parallels to new wave music. But forget all that. No matter that the album conjures up different eras of popular music without any effort, this is stuff that you might find yourself humming for no reason at all. This LP is a good time to happen, and it’s somewhat unfortunate that this is coming out in the late summer, towards the fall, because if there was a disc meant to be played at the beach or in your car, this one is it. Just Enough Hip to Be Woman is more than hip, it’s simply glorious and a paean to the good ol’ days when pop was sharp and concise, and music for teenyboppers was actually non-synthesized and infectious. Try it. You just might like it, and find that this sticks to your teeth like sugar.

There's a rotten core at the center of Lubitsch's Heaven Can Wait. No matter how engaging I find Haskell and Sariss's enchantment with the film, I cannot accede to their critical adulation of it and of Henry.

In the Coen Brothers' The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, there's something altogether new about having revisionist western ideas filtered through their rich sense of character, black comedy, and their penetrating awareness of humanity's fatal imperfections.